


Close

by Daenarii



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (as slow burn as a oneshot can be anyway), Gender-neutral Reader, Happy Ending, Oneshot, Other, Slow Burn, not too gorey tho, reader is a doctor so There Will Be Blood And Injuries, reader is in overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daenarii/pseuds/Daenarii
Summary: The others say that he's cold, distant, haughty--but you know that's not the truth. As you two grow closer together, you discover that you're right; what you don't count on discovering, however, are the feelings you harbor for him.





	Close

The first time you really meet Hanzo, you’re in King’s Row. It’s pouring outside, and that would’ve been a problem if you hadn’t found an unlocked shop to set up in. You’re grateful for the evacuation procedures.

You’re a doctor within Overwatch, post-recall. You’re a field medic, though much less on-site than most of the others. Your “healing” requires a setup and supplies, which the thick of battle doesn’t allow. Thus, you’re usually in the back lines, waiting for others to come to you if they’re hit with something that can’t be patched up quickly.

You’ve seen Hanzo before, walking around the base, but you’ve never spoken together before. You have noticed, however, that Hanzo doesn’t really speak to anyone; he keeps his own company, though he’s far from shy. Some of the others believe that he thinks he’s too good to consort with you all, but you think that’s a little harsh. He’s one of the newer additions, and probably just needs a little time.

He breezes into your makeshift medbay. His head is held high and his face is schooled into a neutral expression, despite the bloody wound on his exposed shoulder. He’s covered in crimson--he’s been bleeding for a while. He’s also soaking wet, his inky-black hair dripping water onto the wooden floor.

You instantly jump up, concerned at the amount of blood. You tell him to sit down, and he complies silently. You take out a damp cloth and gingerly wipe around his shoulder, looking for the wound. You almost miss the grimace of pain on his face. You apologize, and introduce yourself.

He tells you that as long as you’re doing your job, you have no need to apologize. You aren’t sure if he meant to tell you it’s alright, or if he meant to tell you to shut up. He introduces himself as well, however, so you hope it’s the former.

You find the wound then--a gunshot wound. The bullet is still in his shoulder, as there’s no exit hole. After confirming this, you hold the cloth to his wound with one hand as you use the other to rifle through your box of tools. After a moment, you emerge victorious with a small metal sheet, no larger than three of your fingers put together. It has a button on the back.

You remove the cloth from his shoulder, and replace it with the metal sheet. Your thumb hovers over the button, and you glance up at Hanzo’s face. It’s still neutral, though if you look close enough, you can see signs of pain--in the way his eyes are hardened, in the stiff set of his jaw. You tell him this will sting a little. He nods, but doesn’t say anything.

You press the button on the back of the metal, and feel something ram up against it. As you quickly pull the sheet away, holding down the button, Hanzo inhales sharply.

A brass bullet is sticking to the sheet of metal. You sigh in relief; it’s whole. You drop both the metal and the bullet into a small bowl, and tell Hanzo he’s lucky there was no shrapnel.

He says he isn’t sure how lucky he can be, as he got shot in the first place.

You consider telling him to take what he can get, but decide against it. You grab a small container from your toolbox, and unscrew the lid to reveal golden gel. You frown at the small amount--you’ll have to make more when you return to base. You scoop up some of the cool gel with two fingers, then gently start to apply it to Hanzo’s painted skin, over his wound.

You catch his grimace in the corner of his eye, but shortly after you smear a generous amount of gel over his wound, it seals up. You lean back, satisfied, and wipe the excess gel from your fingers on the corner of the container before you seal it again. You wipe away the gel on Hanzo’s shoulder with a cloth as you inform him it’ll be sore, but he can still fight.

He stands up, rolling his shoulder as he nods down at you. He thanks you before he steps out of the room briskly.

* * *

After that, you don’t speak to Hanzo again for a few weeks. The mission was a success, and you aren’t asked to go out again. Hanzo seems to be a ghost; you rarely see him. You wonder where he hides, but don’t want to pry.

Three weeks after the mission, however, you get your answer. You step into one of the unused training rooms; you rarely go there, as combat isn’t exactly your style. You aren’t sure why you decide to go that day, but you think it has something to do with improving your aim.

Hanzo is there. He’s holding his bow up, an arrow nocked and the string pulled all the way back. He peers down the shaft of the bow, his expression serious, before he releases the arrow. It sings through the air, until it firmly embeds itself in the target on the opposite wall.

You don’t know much about archery, but you’re sure his form is impeccable as he draws back another arrow. His back is to you, and he aims for only a moment before he lets the arrow fly. It whizzes through the air before it thuds into the target, above its brother.

Hanzo seems to notice you then. He lowers his bow, body twisted so he can look at you over his shoulder. He greets you, and nods his head in your direction.

You give him a small wave in return. You feel awkward leaving it at that, but Hanzo has already returned to his shooting. You don’t want to distract him, so you wordlessly step over to the weapons locker. It takes you a few moments of searching to find a pistol similar to your own; you’ve only been here once before, and that was during the welcoming tour.

You take the range on Hanzo’s left. You feel a little self-conscious standing next to someone who’s so obviously better at aiming than you, but you try to force down your anxiety. It’s a training room, after all; you’re sure he won’t even look your way.

You two shoot side-by-side, wordlessly, for a while. Even with your pistol, you can never seem to hit the target where you want to. You’re always too high, or too low, or you miss entirely.

When you’re about to give up in frustration, Hanzo says from behind you that your stance is wrong. You turn to look at him; he’s put his bow away, and he looks like he was on his way out before he stopped to watch.

You shrug and tell him that this is the stance you learned on the Internet; how can it be wrong?

He smiles and lets out a small chuckle, though he tries to hide it behind a cough. He steps forward, then hesitates, asking you if you’ll accept his help.

You have no reason not to--he obviously knows his stuff--so you nod.

He steps closer then, and you face towards the target again. He asks you to shoot at the target, and you oblige. You’re only able to fire one bullet before he asks you to stop, but keep your position.

You freeze in place, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He nudges your hands a little farther up by pushing on the bottom of your wrists. His eyes trail down your body, and he tells you to position your legs like _this_ , before he demonstrates.

You copy the pose, and he scrutinizes your legs for a moment before he tells you to separate them a little more. You comply. He looks you over once more, before he nods and steps back. He tells you to shoot again.

You shoot again, and though your aim has improved a little, it’s still off; all the bullets are to the left of the center of the target.

Hanzo chuckles lowly again, and you look at him questioningly. He informs you that shooting with _both_ eyes open will probably help.

You blink in surprise; you hadn’t realized you were closing an eye, but now that he mentions it, you realize you were. It was just a force of habit.

He tells you to try one last time, without closing an eye. You follow his instructions; miraculously, one of your bullets hits the center ring! It’s not the exact middle, but it is an improvement.

You smile and thank Hanzo for his help. He returns your smile, inclining his head towards you. He tells you to make sure to keep practicing with both eyes open from now on before he leaves the room.

* * *

 Since the training room incident, you and Hanzo have spoken much more frequently. Whenever you run into each other in the training room, he imparts some advice before he leaves. Outside of the training room, you’ve taken to eating lunch together. You sometimes sit together during movie nights (though more often than not, Jesse ends up talking your ear off the whole time).

Two months after the training room incident, you’re sent on your next mission. Hanzo is going, too. You’re glad; you’ve come to appreciate his presence, and consider him a friend.

The mission, however, seems to be an intense one. The others going on the mission are meant to infiltrate a known Talon stronghold in a bid to get some information about their next movements regarding recent powerful weapons they’ve stolen.

You try to keep optimistic, but you soon find yourself pacing in your makeshift medbay as the others begin the infiltration. You have a visor that allows you to see where the others are in the compound, as well as general scans of their vitals. Hana and Reinhardt are heading the charge, blocking stray shots, while Angela and Zenyatta hang near the back, providing support when needed. Lena zips around in front of Hana and Reinhardt, and Hanzo is perched on a roof far behind even Angela and Zenyatta.

You watch them all carefully, ready to jump to assistance if needed, but everyone seems fine for the first few minutes. You watch Hanzo’s green outline more than the others’. The way he pops up, shoots, and drops back down is so rhythmic, it’s almost like he’s timing himself. Three seconds down, two seconds up.

After a few minutes, though, Hanzo stutters in his rhythm. He’s hunched over for a moment too long, and his outline suddenly goes yellow, then orange. You widen your eyes, gaze riveted on him. You can’t see his attackers, only him, but he manages to roll away and stand up. He’s holding a hand to his side. After a moment, he steps to the side, then swings his bow upwards--to hit an enemy? He whirls around, bow still hefted, but with a jerk of his body, his outline turns a darker orange. He drops his bow, and it disappears from your sight.

You clutch your hands tightly as you watch the orange outline struggle. Adrenaline thrums through you, screaming at you to go and help. He’s not saying anything over comms--his earpiece must have dislodged somehow--and the others are too far to notice.

You continue to watch Hanzo struggle, fear rooting you to your spot. You know you have to go help--who else will?--but if Hanzo of all people can’t handle it, how would you be able to? You’re just a doctor. Hanzo sweeps his leg out, and his outline turns red. A small _critical!_ sign pops over him. You feel something building up inside of you--but what? You’re too focused on Hanzo to identify it.

Hanzo slumps to the ground and stops moving. Something within you snaps, and you suddenly leap to action, worry thundering through your veins. You grab your toolbox and snatch your pistol from your bench before you rush outside. You don’t know the layout of the building very well, but you force yourself to move towards Hanzo. You think he’s on the roof of the building next door, so you quickly make your way over.

It’s slow-going, and Hanzo doesn’t move as you charge your way, panting, up the steps (the elevator is broken). When you burst through the door to the roof, your eyes immediately land on Hanzo. You tear off your visor as you run over to him, dropping to your knees next to him. The roof skins your knees, but you ignore the stinging pain as you look him over.

He’s in bad shape. His clothes are stained red, and your hand lands in something sticky. You look down, and see a dark pool under Hanzo. He has wounds all over him--fresh bruises, slashes, and bullet wounds, it mostly looks like.

You waste no time in reaching up to gently pull down Hanzo’s gi. You mutter an apology, but you can’t help him without having access to all his wounds. You open your toolbox, then pick out your magnetic sheet of metal and get to work. You talk to him, to try and keep him awake as you pull out a bullet.

His dark eyes are squeezed shut, and sweat beads his brow. His face is pale, and his breaths are short and shallow. You feel fear twisting your heart, but you focus on your work. At your touch, his eyes flutter open for a moment. He mutters your name, then says it’s dangerous--those who attacked him may still be around.

You shake your head, dropping a bullet on the ground next to you with a soft _plink!_. You tell him that he should be worrying more about himself. He scoffs, though it turns into a groan as you pull out another bullet. This one has shattered quite a bit; you’re glad you don’t have to do this by hand.

After you have several bullets and pieces of shrapnel scattered around your knees, you drop the metal sheet in your toolkit. You grab a small jar and unscrew the cap, revealing the healing gel within. You waste no time in scooping some up, slathering it liberally over Hanzo’s wounds. Some slashes are too deep for the gel, so you force yourself to ignore those for the moment.

Hanzo’s breathing levels out as you work. You see him tense whenever your fingers brush over an injury, but you try to act as swiftly and gently as possible.

As you brush some gel over one of the shallower wounds, you hear Lena ask over the comms where Hanzo disappeared to. You take a moment to tell her that he was attacked, but you’re taking care of it. Reinhardt immediately asks if you need backup, but you tell him you’ll be fine; it seems his attackers have since left. You tell them to keep an eye out for flankers.

Hanzo mutters that he’ll be fine, you should get back to your station in case the others need you.

You shake your head and tell him that he’s not fit to move yet.

He huffs and calls that nonsense, before he starts to push himself up. His teeth glint in a grimace, though he continues to move.

You push down firmly on his tattooed shoulder, telling him that you’re almost done, you just need to do a few more things. He watches you closely, eyes calculating, before he slowly settles back again.

You breathe a sigh of relief before you close the jar of gel and return it to your toolkit. You glance over Hanzo’s body; most of the wounds are closed, there are just a few large gashes--namely on his chest, the side of his stomach, and his (untattooed) forearm. You consider yourself lucky that they’re all on his upper half.

You grab a small packet from your toolkit. You peel it open to reveal a stack of damp cloths. You take one out and rub it gently along the edges of the slice in Hanzo’s chest. You explain that it’ll numb the area around the wound, so he shouldn’t be alarmed if he can’t feel anything.

He asks what you’re planning on doing, and you tell him you’re going to stitch up his wounds, as they’re too large to heal efficiently with your gel. He asks if that’s going to involve a needle, and you think you can hear some nerves in his voice.

You glance up at him, and reassure him that, no, there won’t be a needle. He seems to relax at that. You want to try and distract him a little, so you ask if he’s afraid of needles.

He tells you to not be ridiculous as he looks away with a huff.

You feel an amused smile tease at your lips as you set the pack of cloths down. You tell him there’s nothing to be ashamed of as you pick up a small tube, liquid sloshing around in it. Lots of people are afraid of needles, you say as you pull the white cap off the end of the tube, revealing a small dropper.

Hanzo insists he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

You decide to let him sit in denial as you return to your work. You squeeze two drops of liquid on either side of one of Hanzo’s wounds, then press them together. Using this method, you manage to (mostly) connect the outer tissue of the slice on his chest. You patch up the slice in his side similarly, then quickly move to his other side to stitch up his forearm.

Once you finish, you sit back on your heels, watching Hanzo thoughtfully. He asks if you’re finished and, at your nod, starts to push himself up again.

You tell him that that doesn’t mean he can go back into battle, and he stops to furrow his brow at you. You explain that he could still open one of his wounds--or worse, get hurt _again_. You tell him that he should come back with you, and wait for the others.

He argues by saying that the others will need his help, regardless of any injuries.

You shake your head resolutely and tell him that the others will be fine; he’s coming back with you--doctor’s orders. He looks like he wants to argue, but he huffs before he starts to push himself to his feet, grumbling his consent.

As he slowly stands, you scurry to the other side of the roof, grabbing your visor and fixing it back on over your head. You turn your face to watch the others for a moment--all their outlines are green, though Reinhardt’s is a little on the yellow side--before you turn back to Hanzo.

He’s picked up his bow, and is waiting for you. He’s favoring one foot, so as you approach him, you ask if he needs any help getting down the stairs. He hesitates, and you resign yourself to another argument before he gives a stiff nod and looks resolutely towards the exit.

You stand still for only a moment, surprised at the easy acquiescence, before you rush forward. It takes a little juggling to figure out how to best help him move, but after a moment, you’re walking steadily towards the staircase.

You feel a little ridiculous, but the warmth of his arm around you is fanning flames in your cheeks. You have no choice but to focus on it, though--it’s either that, or narrowing in on the still-sticky blood drying on his skin, or the sinuous muscles moving under your hand. You’re glad when you two finally start walking down the stairs, as it gives you some reprieve from him being pressed against your body.

Even though he insists on walking on his own back to your medbay, it’s difficult to resist the blush for the rest of the night.

* * *

 From then on, things between Hanzo and you are...different. Not worse, but different. You think it may just be your imagination, but Hanzo’s touch starts to linger a little more than strictly necessary when he helps you fix your pose in the training room. He confesses to you one night at dinner, the blush of tipsiness hazed over his cheeks, that he doesn’t think you need his advice anymore. You note that he still keeps giving it, however. You aren’t sure if you should be flattered or offended; you decide to settle on the former.

You get the feeling that Hanzo has started to look forward to seeing you. Some of the others tell you that whenever he enters a room, he glances around; if you’re not there, he seems a little disappointed. You can’t say you mind the attention. In fact, it makes your heart rush with heat at the thought that he’s looking for you.

This becomes painfully obvious one day, a month or two after the mission where Hanzo was attacked, when you’re reading in the library. You don’t read often--with training and reports, who has the time?--but you enjoy a good story or two when you can spare a moment. You’ve all but claimed a plush seat in the corner of the front of the library; hidden from heads just peeking in, but in plain sight of those stepping out.

You’re engrossed in the novel you’re reading--a thrilling romance--so you suppose you only notice him when he steps in front of you. He’s nearly silent, his head cocked and a strand of black hair falling across one of his stormy eyes, as he stands in front of you.

You say hello, and he returns the sentiment with a nod, his gaze lifting to yours as his head straightens. You ask if you can help him.

He shrugs a shoulder and says he was simply bored.

You smile at him and invite him to join you, motioning to the seat next to you.

He hesitates, warily eying the seat. He looks like he thinks it’s going to bite him before he slowly nods, his eyes returning to you as he says that would be an enjoyable way to pass the time.

You laugh off the flutter in your stomach as you tell him he’d best get a book of his own, then; there’s no way you two are sharing.

He frowns at that, and asks why that would be such a bad idea.

You blush, glancing down at the page you’re on; the main characters are in the middle of a heated kiss. Not wanting to admit to embarrassment, you press the book against your chest and make tell him that reading the same book is like a window into the soul.

He seems to frown further at that, and you’re afraid for a moment that you’ve offended. He looks like he wants to say something else, but you catch a minute shake of his head before he tells you he’ll be back in a moment and pads off.

You watch him browsing the spines of the books for a moment before he disappears among the shelves. You drop your eyes back to the page, and try to force yourself to get lost in the story again. It’s difficult, though, knowing that Hanzo is in the same room as you--and even more difficult still when he finally sits down next to you, the content sigh of the plush cushion under him the only sound he makes.

You try desperately to cling to your own story, but at that point, it’s a lost cause. Your gaze keeps flicking over to him; at first, it’s just to check out what book he grabbed (the title is in Japanese, which you honestly should’ve guessed would happen from the beginning). After you suss out his selection, however, you just can’t stop looking; you wish you could openly admire the way his raven-black hair swoops down from his brow, how he doesn’t seem to notice it as he reads, his onyx lashes nearly resting on his cheeks as his eyes scan the pages.

You mentally scold yourself, not wanting to be so creepy--but you can’t help yourself. During one of your stolen glances, however, you catch Hanzo’s eyes angled towards you--or, more accurately, your book. There’s a small cleft between his brows, a thoughtful frown on his face, and--you think you might be imagining it--a light tint of pink across his cheeks.

Your eyes widen, and you look at the page yourself. It’s the same one you’d been on when he’d walked in, with the love interests passionately kissing. With horrified embarrassment staining your cheeks, you close the book sharply. His eyes land on yours.

You stare at one another before you let out a nervous laugh. Your tension is eased, however, when you see the misty tail of amusement flicker in his eyes. His mouth curls around the edge a little as he asks you to confirm whether books are _really_ windows to the soul.

You wave him off, your face still burning, as you scold him for reading over your shoulder.

He chuckles lowly, the sound dark and smoky, before he apologizes (a little mockingly, if you’re being honest).

You let out a flustered puff of air as you stand up, saying you don’t have to take this.

Hanzo chuckles again, getting up with you as he reassures you that he isn’t judging you.

You want to play it off as a joke, but when you catch his face out of the corner of your eye, your heart melts at the joy on his face. It isn’t apparent, but you can see it in the way the corner of his mouth is lifted, the crinkles around the corners of his eyes. You avert your gaze, mumbling that you appreciate it.

Silence befalls the two of you for a moment before it’s blasted to smithereens by a loud alarm squawking from the watch on your wrist. You jump, your book nearly slipping from your fingers as you hurry to disable the alarm.

Hanzo asks if you’re going to go now, and you look over at him. The joy in his face has vanished, replaced instead with disappointment.

In an attempt to lighten his mood, you nod and tell him that duty calls; you two can continue this discussion later, though, if he’d like.

He nods, and says he very much would.

You give him a smile before you tell him you’ll see him later and step out of the room, holding your book to your chest to keep your fluttering heartbeat from breaking out of its cage.

* * *

You two never do continue the discussion, though you spend a lot of time together. A few days after the library scene, a small group of the others--Hana, Lúcio, and Jesse, namely--are pulling you along to movie night in the rec room. Your small troupe passes Hanzo, pressed against the wall as he waits for you all to pass.

You invite him along with a smile, pausing as the rest of the group marches on down the hallway. Hanzo hesitates, glancing after the others, before he reflects your smile and gives a small nod, agreeing.

You two quickly catch up to the others; there’s some teasing from Jesse and Hana that Hanzo _never_ would’ve said yes if it hadn’t been _you_ asking, but Lúcio says he’s glad to have Hanzo.

As you all make your way down the hall, Hanzo refutes the teasing with his normal prickliness--but his voice is lighter than it would be if he was serious, and there’s an amused glint in his eye. He’s come a long way from the antisocial archer he’d been when he first arrived.

The rec room is already set up when you all get there. There are giant bowls of popcorn--courtesy of Jesse--and blankets and pillows, with all the comfiest seats pulled around the large television screen. Nobody else but this small group comes to movie night (despite all the invitations), so you tell Hanzo he can sit wherever he likes.

The others already have their seats picked out; Jesse picks the old leather recliner that should’ve been trashed two years ago, while Hana sinks into another seat that’s two sizes too large (which she compensates for by lounging her entire body across it). Lúcio takes a purple beanbag next to the TV.

Conveniently, the only place left is the loveseat. Luckily, it’s big enough that you and Hanzo can sit side-by-side without pressing together _too_ much; you can feel the warmth radiating from his leg, but not his leg itself.

In true movie night fashion, there’s a wide selection of genres, ranging from action to comedy to thriller. Scary movies don’t normally get you, but you’ve never seen this one before. You manage to sit through most of the scares, but there’s one near the middle that makes you jump violently, careening into Hanzo and dumping the popcorn bowl into his lap.

You apologize profusely and move to brush the kernels out of his lap, before you realize that’s his _lap_. You hand him the bowl with a thick blush, still stuttering out apologies.

He’s chuckling, though, brushing the popcorn back into the bowl. He says with a smirk in his voice that if you were scared, you should’ve just told him.

You huff and tell him that you weren’t _scared_ , you were just...startled. He continues laughing quietly, but doesn’t say anything else, as Hana shushes you two then.

Because of your journey into Hanzo’s lap, from that point on, your thigh is firmly pressed against his. You try not to shift too much, so you don’t distract him from the movie, but you can’t help but focus on that small point of contact.

The end of the night is reserved for the romcoms. Usually, you and Lúcio are the only ones to stick around for those. Tonight, though, Lúcio files out with the others, apologizing, but claiming he has a _really_ early training time tomorrow.

Once everyone else is gone and the title of the movie is sweeping across the screen, you ask Hanzo if he’d like to bow out, too.

He asks if you intend to go to bed, and when you say no, then he says he’ll stay with you--for a little longer, at least. You try to ignore the flower of warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

With the others gone, Hanzo seems to find the courage to make quiet remarks to you. You hear him snort at particularly cliché lines, and poke holes in the logic of the film. When the main character is able to stop a plane from taking flight before they can confess to their love interest, Hanzo stops keeping his comments to himself.

You two are only on the second romance film, but you can tell you’re both feeling exhausted; you’re tempted to lean on Hanzo, but you tell yourself you can stay strong until the end of this film. Hanzo seems to talk a lot more when he’s tired, and you find yourself laughing at most of his criticism.

His remarks die down near the end of the film, though, when the two lovers are confessing to one another. You look at Hanzo, thinking he’s fallen asleep, but freeze when your eyes meet his.

The soft glow of the television flickers on half his face, keeping it lit like a star as the other half is in shadow. You can feel his mahogany eyes staring at you, almost into your soul. His hair isn’t bound like normal--he must’ve taken it out a while ago--and frames his face like a velvet curtain.

You’re frozen in his gaze. The lovers confess to themselves in whispers, the man promising his undying devotion and his partner returning the sentiment. For some reason, with Hanzo staring at you so intently, the words rock you to your core. Your heart seems to grip itself tightly, though you aren’t sure why. You want to ask if Hanzo is alright, but your mouth can’t form the words.

You see his eyes flick down minutely then, to your lips, and your breath catches. You find yourself mirroring the glance, gaze catching on his soft-looking lips. You don’t feel yourself leaning forward, but you see him do so as well, closing the gap between you two. You both go slowly--afraid of the other turning away, you suppose--but you have all the time in the world. The movie is but a distant and forgotten memory; all that matters at the moment is the two of you.

That is, until, the door slides open with a soft _swish!_. Hanzo freezes, still staring at you, but you quickly pull back and look at the intruder, glad that the darkness of the room will hide the fire in your cheeks.

The silhouette is tall, and you confirm that it’s Jesse as he pads in, grumbling about forgetting his phone. He’s out again within three minutes, but by then, the moment is gone. You and Hanzo finish the film in near-silence, and you bid each other a good night.

As you walk away from him, you can’t help but wonder what his lips would’ve felt like.

* * *

 Hanzo doesn’t avoid you--at least, that’s what you tell yourself. After movie night, he still talks to you, and he doesn’t run from you. But he’s never in any of his usual haunts; your training sessions are in solitude, and if he’s ever in the library, it’s not when you’re there.

When you _do_ see him, though (usually during lunch and dinner), it’s as if nothing has changed. Or maybe--he seems to laugh more, you think, and smile more. He seems to make more jokes, both to you and the others. He’s more open.

But you’re keenly aware of his absences, like a thorn in your thumb. You want to know where he goes when he’s not with you anymore, but how can you ask without seeming possessive? You want to ask about the near-kiss, too, but you feel like that’ll just drive him away even further.

You get a chance to ask, however, a few weeks after movie night. You two are sent on another mission together (you’ll have to ask whoever organizes the rosters how to best thank them). The mission is a simple recon mission--gather intelligence about the remnants of the Deadlock Gang, in New Mexico.

When you arrive (with Jesse, Lúcio, Reinhardt, and Hana), the locals are quick to inform you that it’s monsoon season. Your team pays it no mind as they continue in their investigations.

One day, while they’re sneaking around an old Deadlock base, however, a large storm blows over the area. Comms are all but fried; you can hear the others, but it’s staticky, as if their lips are made of chip bags.

You weren’t able to find an actual building to set up in, so you try to content yourself by standing under the awning of an old gas station (boarded up tight, or else you’d invite yourself in), holding your supply box and your pistol in your hands. The winds and lightning mess with your visor, as well, so you flip that up, instead squinting through the gray-brown landscape.

The dirt is turning to slush, almost, flowing in the gutter past your feet. Lightning crackles overhead with loud claps of thunder. The wind is strong; after about ten minutes, you’re already soaked and shivering, the awning providing no protection against the almost-sideways rain. You resolutely hold your position, though, squinting through the rain to try and see any silhouettes coming towards you.

Eventually--after ten minutes or so, if your watch is any good--you do see someone in the distance. You squint at them as they approach, until you see the curve of a bow in their hand. the other held up to protect their eyes--Hanzo.

You force yourself to stay rooted to your spot, until he approaches. Once he’s close enough to see you, he gives a faltering smile as he steps under the awning next to you. You have to shout over the rain hitting the awning to ask him what he’s doing here.

He responds in a shout as well, explaining that the others have called an end to the investigation for the day; the storm is interfering far too much. He says that he can help take you back to the safehouse.

You give him a smile and a nod, saying that that’d be nice; you tell him you’re sure you’re going to be sick for weeks after this storm.

He frowns, concern furrowing his brow, as he promises to get you both back as soon as possible, then. Having a sick doctor wouldn’t be good at all, he says.

He starts walking, and you join him at his side. You two hurry along, almost running through the streets to escape the downpour. It’s useless, though; the rain and wind both keep coming, and none of the streets Hanzo leads you down seem any more familiar. In fact, you feel like you’re in an entirely new city. After what feels like twenty minutes of walking, without the storm lightening up at all, Hanzo sighs and gently pulls you onto a small stoop with an awning.

His touch on your wrist is brief, though it leaves flames in its wake, even through the bonechilling rain soaking you. On the stoop, you have to stand close to him to avoid being in the rain; you can feel his heat radiating through your clothes, and if you inhale at the same time as him, your chests brush against one another.

You fight off a rising blush as you ask him what’s wrong.

He apologizes, then informs you that he believes he’s lost; the storm has changed nearly everything.

You nod, feeling strangely calm. At least you’re together, then, you tell him. You suggest the two of you wait out the storm, until you can reach the others.

He furrows his brow at you, and nods before he carefully asks if you’re really not angry.

You shake your head. Of course you’re not, you tell him; why would you be? You set your things down on the stoop next to your feet.

He watches you for a moment, silent, before he confides that not many take mistakes as gracefully as you do.

You can’t fight off the blush this time, your cheeks warming as you inform him that anyone who doesn’t have the decency to let Hanzo off the hook now and again isn’t worth wasting time on.

You catch a smile quirk the corners of his lips, and it’s only then that you realize how close you two _really_ are; you could easily lean forward and kiss him, if you wanted--if he would allow it.

He murmurs something, and you almost miss it, mesmerized by the way the light shines on his lower lip. When the words register, though-- _you are amazing_ \--you stammer out that it’s just common courtesy.

He shakes his head, and when your eyes meet his, something burning in their depths catches you and won’t let you go. He murmurs something--about how he’s _tired_ , so tired of running--but you’re only half listening.

Distantly, lost in his eyes, you ask what he’s running from.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring intently at you. In your periphery, you see him lift a hand. He slowly, cautiously, questioningly brings it to your cheek. You stand still, letting him curl his fingers against your cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing against your cheekbone. His touch is feather-light, but you feel lightning storms under your skin.

He murmurs again, and you don’t know how you hear it over the rain, but you do. It’s an apology, for becoming distant lately; he says that when he realized how happy you truly made him, it...frightened him. He wasn’t ready to accept it, to think that he _could_ accept it. He says that, even if he had been, he hadn’t been sure if you would’ve accepted him, hadn’t been sure if he’d inspired the same joy in you.

Your heart is clenched tight, pounding in the bottom of your throat. Before he can continue, you rush to say that he _does_ make you happy, too. Once that’s out, you find yourself unable to stop, telling him that you’ve been missing him lately, but that you understand his need for time and space.

You catch him glance down at your lips for a long time. You find your heart beating in anticipation, but you hold yourself back--for his sake. He murmurs that you’re amazing again, before he leans forward, his lips pressing firmly against yours.

Your mind goes blank, but you work on instinct. You close your eyes, reaching your hands up to grip his sides as he curls his other hand against your other cheek. His lips taste like rainwater, and are softer than you’d thought they be.

He pulls away too soon. You chase after his lips for a moment, before you remember yourself and you pull back as well, a blush staining your cheeks as you open your eyes. Your gaze lands on his, half-lidded, his soft smile sending clouds of warmth rolling through your stomach.

Ha glances out at the street, and murmurs that the storm has passed.

You frown, and realize he’s right; it must’ve happened while you two were confessing to one another. You’re not surprised you missed it.

Hanzo pulls his hands from your face, looking up and down the street before he says he knows where you two are--thankfully, it’s only a block or two away from the safehouse.

He steps down from the stoop, and you feel a sudden jolt of fear stab through your gut, prompting you to shoot a hand out and grab his wrist.

He stops, looking back at your hand on his wrist, then up at you, his brow furrowed. You ask him if this will be like movie night again--if he’d going to disappear again. The words taste like sand as you force them out, and your chest feels cold with apprehension.

He turns to face you fully, lifting his hand to grip yours firmly as he stares you in the eyes. He says that nothing could tear him from your side now, unless you no longer wish him to be there. He says that, now, his heart is yours, and he will not intentionally betray it--or you--like that again.

You silently stare at one another for a few moments, before you slowly nod, giving him a hesitant smile. You trust Hanzo; if he says he won’t leave, he won’t. You let go of his hand to grab your things before you step off of the stoop as well, glancing up at the sky between the buildings.

The two of you walk down the street, side-by-side, your shoulders brushing occasionally as you trade smiles.


End file.
